It's not your fault
by Sunset-leaf
Summary: Tony's guilt was too much to bear, as the events of earlier that day come back to haunt him.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

The rain pattered down the glass as he stared out into the darkness. He was leaning back in his chair; his face set hard, brazen cheekbones creating shadows in his now hollow and withdrawn cheeks. From a fleeting glance, no feeling cut through his stony expression until you noticed the eyes. The closer you looked, deep into those pools of glittering soul, the more of the crippling pain that he was feeling showed through. Every ounce of his body tired with the ache of remembering; every ounce trying so hard to block everything out.

"Tony?" Silence.

The room was shrouded in darkness; a black cloak lain over the world NCIS. The woman's voice did nothing to stir the man from waking. Not even a minute movement to acknowledge her presence.

She tried hopelessly again, "Tony?" Silence still.

She moved closer and closer, edging her way towards the broken man. His silhouette was outlined by the image of the city below, beaming up through the large panes of glass in front of him. His shoulders drooped, and his body sunk low in his chair. His hands gripped the arms of the chair and the veins stood out, vigorously pumping away, unaware of the emotional pain the man was struggling to bear. The woman reached the figure and lifted a delicate, gentle hand softly onto his shoulder, massaging in the care and love she held for him. Her heart beat fast and she could feel the blood flowing furiously through her ears. Her face was tender, willing him to talk to her and let out his emotions; any emotion.

She squeezed harder on his shoulder, "It wasn't your fault."


	2. Chapter 2

Tony tensed and slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. He swung round on his chair, pulling himself from Ziva's grip.

"What d'ya mean, it wasn't my fault?" he shouted loudly, a large vein throbbing in the middle of his forehead. "Of course it was my fault!"

"You didn't know it was him," she said quietly, trying to calm Tony down. Tony stood up quickly, anger emanating from him, and Ziva stepped back.

"It was a stupid disguise," he said bitterly, a small amount of spit flying in Ziva's direction. She ignored it and stared back at him, waiting out his anger. "A probie could have seen through it," he said. Ziva could see the look of disgust on his face as he sat back down slowly. He leaned over and put his head between his legs, his hands ruffling through his chocolate brown hair. Ziva knelt down in front of him and put a hand to the side of his face, her heart going out to him.

"Tony, it wasn't your fault, you have to believe that," she said in earnest, but to no avail. Tony didn't reply. Instead Ziva was confronted with a sobbing middle-aged man. His hands covered his tearstained face but he couldn't disguise the broken cries. Ziva crumbled and raised her other hand to his face, pulling him closer to her so that their foreheads touched.

"Tony, please. You didn't know."

Tony continued to let out long sobs and his body began to shake. Ziva clutched his head to her breast and held him in her arms, comforting his trembling body. She rocked back and forth, calming him so that the cries now became whimpers. She didn't let him go, even when it had stopped completely, still holding him, still rocking him. They stayed like that for a long time; Ziva supporting him, consoling him. He finally pulled away, but only a small distance. He looked up, their faces inches apart, Ziva's hand now steady at the base of his neck.

"If he…"

"He won't," Ziva said, unwilling to let him finish that sentence.

"But…"

"He won't." she repeated firmly, her eyes looking deep into his eyes, convincing him nothing was going to happen. They remained like that, looking into each other's eyes, both of them trying to gain some sense of strength and security.

"Thank you."

Ziva was taken aback and she gave him a confused look. "What for? I didn't do anything."

Tony raised his hands and placed them on her shoulders, looking deeper still into her eyes. "Just you being here, it's…comforting," he said, choosing his words carefully.

"You are my friend. I will always be there to…comfort you," she replied.

"Thank you," he repeated and an awkward silence crept in. Still just inches away from each other, Tony could feel her body heat radiating from her, tickling the surface of his skin. He slipped his hands down her back to rest on her waist and the look in his eyes changed. Ziva noticed this and she dropped from his gaze, pulling away slightly.

"You should go home, Tony," she said quietly. Tony pulled her closer into his, forcing her to look up again, their lips barely missing each other.

"What if I don't want to go home?" he asked, the intent plain in his voice.

Ziva looked at him for a few seconds, clearly entertaining the idea, her eyes full of her longing for the man staring back. Tony saw the look in her eyes and leaned forwards. His lips brushed against hers sending a wave of electricity across his stomach. He was so close, yet so far as he felt her pull out of his grip. She stood up and backed away, her voice trembling ever so slightly as she spoke.

"Well, I'm going home; I think you should do the same," she turned and walked away, feeling the burn of his eyes on her back. As she stepped into the elevator and looked at Tony from across the room, she saw a sadness displayed in his face and she felt sick. She'd been waiting for that moment for a long time and when it finally came…

The metal doors closed and Tony sighed deeply. He leaned back in the chair and spun it round to face the great glass windows. He stared out onto the streets below and felt a great sorrow at what had just happened. Or rather hadn't happened. Tiredness suddenly hit him and his eyelids drooped. Tony let them close and his thoughts went over everything that had happened that day. He prepared for the nightmare to begin; today had not been good.

As the doors closed in front of her Ziva closed her eyes, her hand hung trembling by her side. She used her other one to still it and opened her eyes slowly. They were glossy with tears and her mouth wobbled slightly. The luminous numbers above the door were descending closer and closer to G, and she hastily blinked away her tears, furious at herself for letting them be there in the first place. She shook herself and looked forwards as the bell dinged and the doors reopened, smiling faintly at the man passing her to get in the elevator.


	3. Chapter 3

As deep sleep drew in, Tony's breathing became heavier and his eyelids twitched. He fidgeted desperately as his body tried to cope with the horror that was happening beneath the surface.

"_Tony, you take front," Gibbs said gruffly, "McGee on back; Ziva inside."_

"_On it Boss," came the replies from the three agents._

"_Any sign of this man entering, or trying to enter the building and you take him down and you tell me, okay?"_

"_What will you be doing?" Ziva asked quietly._

"_I will be inside with the director."_

"_Don't worry, Boss, nothing will happen to the director. We're gonna get this guy," Tony said; his voice dripped with confidence._

Tony's body shifted in the seat as the memories from earlier that night immerged within him, cold sweat condensing on his forehead. He moaned slightly but then returned to his silent nightmare.

"_McGee?" Tony said into the com, squirming in his smart attire. He didn't like wearing these kind of clothes; they reminded him too much of his family._

_The com crackled into life and McGee answered, "Yes?"_

"_Any sign of him yet?"_

"_None here at the back, what about at the front?"_

"_Nope, no sign of him here either."_

"_Do you reckon he's still gonna try and do it tonight?"_

"_I don't know, Probie, but if he does try anything we will be ready for him." Tony reattached the com to his side and returned to scouting the incoming crowd for the suspect. They'd been after this guy for months, and they'd received a tip off earlier that day informing them of his plans for tonight. All they knew, or at least all Tony had been told, was that the man was an assassin employed by anyone for the right price, and his hit list had included an impressive amount of head figures. His success rate was sickeningly high, and the only good picture they had of him was from when he was in the SAS. After he dropped out, he fell from all radars except from the line of bodies he left behind. And now he was after Jenny._

_As Tony scoured the crowd of smartly dressed people waiting to enter the building, his eyes came into contact with a beautiful woman. There was definitely some amount of Latino in her, her dark hair curling past her shoulders and bouncing lightly as she walked. She noticed Tony's gaze and smiled deeply, her eyes sparkling and inviting. Tony gave her the famous DiNozzo smile back, and nodded to her as she came near the entrance. He now saw that her arm was draped over a man standing next to her. The man was smartly dressed and his mouth was taught and unsmiling. Tony cringed slightly at the bad goatee this man was sporting but smiled anyway, hiding his mild humour at the man's appearance. As the couple past Tony, he looked once again at the woman and he succeeded in locking eyes with her. He smiled, and his eyes let her know his intent to which she reciprocated through her soft expression. She turned from him as she walked into the building and went about mingling with the guests already inside. Tony looked back to the front and went back to looking for the assassin. After this mission was over, he was going to get her number._

Tony, was now violently twitching in his seat as he remembered McGee's panicked voice as he reached Tony through the com. Beads of sweat had now formed on his forehead and his clothes were damp; his body hot and jerking feverishly.

"_Tony!"_

"_What is it, McGee?" _

"_Ziva has just told me that he's already inside!"_

_Tony paled, "What? How can he be? We've been here all night."_

"_He obviously got past us."_

"_You mean got past you," Tony said icily. "Ok move inside Probie, I'll move in from the front. We are gonna get this guy before he does something he will regret."_

_Tony entered the building through the entrance he had seen so many people use that night, his hand tightly gripped on his holster. As he entered the great hall he spotted Gibbs in the distance. He'd taken Jenny to the side of the room and, from the looks of it, was failing in trying to convince her not to do her speech. Tony sighed and continued to look over the crowd, trying to identify Ziva. He saw McGee enter the room from the other side and frantically try to do the same thing. Tony was still struggling to pick out Ziva when Jenny stepped up to the stand. Gibbs face was tight and a look of hard worry was plastered all over it. Tony swallowed hard and watched as she lowered her mouth to the microphone._

"_Hello and welcome to everyone here," she started off clearly and happily. "Thank you so much for coming today to celebrate with me and the rest of NCIS to congratulate Director General John Trimmer in his retirement." She beamed broadly and Tony finally laid eyes on Ziva. Her eyes were wide as she motioned her head towards the bar. A loud applause rang out as Tony looked over and his mouth went dry as he saw a Latino woman with long dark hair standing at the bar. Her face was pale as she watched the man with her take out a gun. Everybody was too busy clapping and smiling to notice that this man had a gun out and Tony threw himself into the crowd. He saw McGee the other side doing the same thing. As he pushed his way through the mass of tightly packed bodies he looked over his shoulder and saw Gibbs moving quickly towards Jenny, Ziva had obviously got his attention as well. Tony went cold as he heard a gunshot ring over the sound of the applause, and he started pushing people violently to the side in his effort to reach the shooter. More shots rang out as he came near to the bar, but by the time he reached it the man had disappeared. His head jerked from side to side as he tried to locate the shooter. His attention came to a woman collapsed on the floor, her dark hair falling across her face as she lay. Tony knelt down beside her and lifted her head up. A red mark burrowed deep into her chest, and a dark red liquid was seeping into her beautiful dress._

_She looked up at Tony and the life faded from her eyes, "I tried to stop him…I'm sorry…"_

_Tony opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again as he saw her eyes go cold. He laid her back on the floor sorrowfully and looked up in time to see McGee reach the bar._

"_Tony? What happened?"_

"_I don't know; how is the director?"_

"_I can't see; there are too many people here."_

"_We need to find him, McGee, you saw what he looked like didn't you?"_

"_Well yes…"_

"_Spread out, he's not getting away," Tony said, his voice null of emotion. He's only purpose right at that moment was to find that man._


	4. Chapter 4

Tony watched in horror as the bodies parted and he saw the figure lying on the middle of the floor. The crisp dinner jacket the man was wearing was now wide open, revealing a dark red stain colouring the front of the shirt underneath. Tony stood frozen with terror as the man writhed in agony. A woman was bent over him, her hands desperately trying to stem the flow of blood seeping from the bullet wound. Her face was white, but she held a determined expression. The roar from the surrounding crowd was silenced from Tony, as the sound of his own heartbeat deafened him. Staring at the scene before him, he was rooted to the spot, unable to move. The world spinning past him in one big blur, except for the picture of his boss lying on the floor in front of him. He was suddenly jolted as a man pushed to get past him on his way towards the exit, and Tony was brought back to reality. He shot into action, running forwards and putting a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"What happened?" he said quietly, his voice barely making it past his lips.

"He was…he jumped in front of me and…," she replied, her own voice quiet and close to breaking. Tony tightened his grip and the woman swallowed hard, taking strength from the man supporting her. "Special Agent Gibbs has received a bullet to the chest. I've tried to stop the bleeding but…," this time her voice gave way and she swayed a little under Tony's hold. He bent down and gently but quickly removed her hands from Gibbs torso, replacing them with his own.

"Let me try," he said and Director Jennifer Shepard obeyed his order, moving backwards out of the way. She sat down on the floor, slowly rocking herself backwards and forwards.

Tony turned his attention to his wounded superior. "Boss?" Tony said firmly, "Don't worry, we're gonna get you out of here. You'll be fine."

Gibbs groaned and Tony couldn't stifle the smile that came from the words that exited Gibbs mouth. "You're not getting rid of me that easily DiNozzo."

Tony looked up and saw a team of paramedics rushing towards them. "Don't worry Boss, the cavalry's on its way," said Tony smiling, but as he looked down the smile faded. As he stared into his boss's eyes, the usual intense stare that greeted him had gone. Instead he was confronted by a sort of helplessness; similar to that of a small child, and that unsettled him.

Tony's stomach tightened horribly as he saw the pain in the eyes of the man who lay at the end of his hands. He pushed his hands further into Gibbs's chest in an effort to stem the flow of blood, but the red liquid flowed over his hands effortlessly. The paramedics arrived and dropped to the floor, pushing Tony aside.

Tony sat overwhelmed on the floor next to his Boss and stared forcefully into his eyes, willing him not to give up. Gibbs stared back, unable to voice his thoughts; but a thankful warmness showed somewhere in the depths of his startling blue eyes. Tony's eyes glazed over slightly with tears, but he furiously blinked them away, frantic not to lose the gaze of his Boss.

As the paramedics worked on his body, Gibbs eyelids slowly started to droop and Tony did the one thing he could think of to keep the light from going out in the man's eyes. He reached forwards grabbing his outlaid hand with his own, clenching it tightly within his grasp. The man looked back, appreciation streaming from his eyes at the gesture. He gripped Tony's hand hard as pain struck his face. He closed his eyes and his mouth grimaced as he gave in to the unspeakable pain flooding his body, and his body fell limp. Tony refused to let go as he felt Gibbs's hand go loose in his own.

"No!" he cried out, but nobody heard him, busy with their own jobs of sustaining the life of the man before them. Tony now let the tears that he had previously tried so hard to hold back fall thick and fast. The room swam out of focus as grief took hold of him, and his body shook uncontrollably.

"No…no…NOOOOOOOO!"


	5. Chapter 5

The familiar ding of the elevator rang out and the man exited onto the NCIS floor. Tony lay in his chair, fidgeting every now and then as the painful memories hit him, each one a stab wound to his heart.

The man silently walked across the floor, hidden by the shadows at the edge of the room. Tony was seated in front of the great glass windows looking down on the town, completely unaware of the figure nearing him.

The man drew closer and closer to Tony, and was now so close that he could have touched him. He stopped short and leaned in close to the sleeping body of Tony. Tony let out a long howl as his body tensed in grief, but did not awake from his terrible slumber. The man leering over him hesitated, his face inches away from Tony's. He raised his hand to Tony's throat, barely touching it. His eyes were dark and menacing, willing him on for the kill. The growl from a passing car on the streets below brought the man back from his fantasy and he slowly moved away from the sleeping Tony. He flexed his hand slightly, calming it from the unnerving twitch it now had. He was on a mission and he wouldn't become sloppy. The man left the room, heading for the stairs at the other end and Tony slept on, completely unaware of what had just happened.

The man glided past the empty receptionist desk and opened the door to the office. Moving quickly, he walked over to a nearby plant pot and reached his hands into its leaves. He pulled out a small black object and pocketed it in his jacket. He continued over to the table in the middle of the room and reached underneath it, removing a second identical black object. Finally he walked over to the desk itself that stood to one side and from the underside of the back of the monitor sitting on the desk removed yet another identical small black object. He'd done what he had come for and he allowed himself a small smile. Another mission successfully accomplished. Or at least almost complete, there was still the obstacle of the sleeping man on the floor below him. He walked out to the balcony and looked down; the man was still in a deep sleep, albeit a turbulent one. The man silently and quickly moved down the stairs and past the man in the chair, his right hand twitching ever so slightly as he did so. But the man had taught himself the self-control needed to be good at his job and he walked straight past, leaving the room without a trace of him ever setting foot there. The lift descended and the man left the building, leaving Tony shifting in his seat, completely oblivious of the events that just happened right underneath his nose.

When Ziva ventured out onto the NCIS floor, light beamed in from the huge glass windows, illuminating the empty chair in the middle of the floor. It was early in the morning, so everything was tinted with a slightly eerie reddish glow. She walked forwards glancing around for any sign of Tony, and dumped her bag on her desk. The room was in silence and Tony was nowhere to be seen. Ziva let out a long sigh and sat down behind her desk. She leaned forwards and rested her forehead on her folded arms. Yesterday had been a heck of a day. She'd been prepared for missions like that all her life; hell, she'd grown up seeing them everyday. She'd seen far worse things in her life, but not with him involved. She closed her eyes as she remembered his body falling to the floor, a fresh bullet burrowed into his chest. She had wanted to run to him, straight up to him and to catch him as he fell backwards into Director Shepard's trembling arms. But she'd had a mission. To find the man that shot that bullet, and she was damned if she was going to fail Gibbs. Ziva thumped her head a couple of times into her arms, mentally beating herself. That's exactly what she had done; fail Gibbs. She and McGee had run straight after the man as he made his escape, but in all the commotion and the squash of terrified people, he had gotten away.

"Oh Jethro…" she sighed, her voice becoming unstable and rocky.

"Jethro?" came a voice from near her, "So when did you two become so close?"

Ziva whipped her head up from where she had been huddled, blinking quickly to remove the tiniest trace of moisture that had crept there a second ago. "I meant Gibbs, Tony. Where have you been?"

Tony lifted his arms to reveal a two fresh cups of coffee. "I bought two, one for me and one for…"

"Gibbs." Ziva answered, knowing the answer.

"Out of habit I suppose…how is he?" said Tony anxiously, his face tight and deep with concern.

"Stable at the moment, but not good," Ziva said, her words somewhat happier than she had expected them to sound. She was just relieved that he was alive. Tony appeared to take the same stance and looked calmer now; not happy, but comforted now that he was reassured that Gibbs was hanging onto life.

"Well, we knew that Gibbs wouldn't let a bullet stop him, he'll outlive us all just to make sure we don't break any of his stupid rules," Tony said, a pang of grief evident as he spoke the words.

"I never know which rule is which number, apart from…"

"Rule twelve," they said in unison. They looked at each other, and for the briefest moment something flashed between them as they both remembered that moment last night. Ziva was the first to look away, unable to bring her self to relive it. Tony took her lead and quickly moved on from the unsaid subject.

"What exactly did happen last night? I mean I saw him lying on the floor but apart from that…" Tony began sombrely.

"Well, I spoke with Director Shepard after it all happened and she said that he jumped in front of her. He saw me signal to him that the gunman was over by the bar and he must have seen him withdraw the gun."

"Gibbs never misses a thing," Tony said fondly.

Ziva smiled, "I've never known him to."

"Nope," said Tony quietly, "not a thing. Never." He walked over to his chair in the middle of the floor and wheeled it back behind his desk before sinking himself down into it. Silence fell as both of them went through the disastrous actions of last night, and how Gibbs had come to be shot.


	6. Chapter 6

When McGee set foot in the bullpen, the silence was almost deafening. His body tensed as he walked over to his desk and sat down, placing his bag on the desktop. He opened his mouth to say something, but his reluctant throat refused to break the silence. The uncomfortable air around him seemed to stifle any sound that came out, and the result was McGee opening and shutting his mouth like a goldfish. Tony seemed to notice this amusing action and the silence was broken.

"Practicing kissing Abby then, Probie?" he joked. The joke sounded almost forced; the words were Tony's usual style, but the way he said it lacked his customary childish attitude, his eyes remaining cold and hard. Nobody challenged him about it; they all knew what he was going through, what they were all going through.

"No," McGee said, his cheeks tinged with the slightest bit of color.

"Well, if you kiss like that, then it's no wonder Abby still doesn't want to date you," Tony said, surprising himself when he laced the words with spite and malice.

"Don't take it out on McGee, Tony." Ziva said in a quiet monotone that was uncharacteristic of the Ziva they had all come to know and like.

"Take what out, Ziva? Tell me, precisely what can't I take out on Probie?" Tony asked, temper rising in his voice.

"We all feel bad over what happened to Gibbs, but we need to stick together as a team," Ziva said, her tone hardening against Tony's angry voice.

"Oh, so you feel 'bad' do you? We are all supposed to feel 'bad'?" Tony asked, blood rushing to his face.

"I didn't mean…" Ziva began

"Well you haven't been here that long, you're not as close to Gibbs as we are. So while you feel 'bad', we might be feeling slightly more than that," Tony spat at Ziva. Ziva's face blanched and the hurt at what Tony had just said shone through in her eyes. She rose from her seat without saying a word and rushed from the bullpen. A pang of guilt hit Tony's heart as he realized the full effect of the words that had just exited his mouth. He fell silent and looked at the floor as he sank into his chair.

"That was uncalled for Tony," McGee said quietly, "She may not have been here as long as we have but we all feel the same. I haven't even been here as long as…" Tony looked up and attempted to say something but McGee didn't let him, "as long as you, but I'd like to feel that I'm part of this team as much as you are."

"You are, we all are…I didn't mean…"

"Well, then, why did you say it, Tony?"

"I don't know…I didn't think…"

"You need to apologize to her," McGee said quietly, some of the earlier strength draining from his voice as he had said his peace.

"I will…why haven't you gone off with her…and left me on my own?"

"I'm your friend Tony, and I will always be here for you, but that doesn't mean I won't be Ziva's as well."

Tony looked at McGee and gratitude filled his gleaming eyes. Tony paused slightly before saying his next words, "Thank you."

McGee nodded his head silently before standing up and walking to the edge of the bullpen. "I'm going to find Abby; I don't know where Ziva would be…" McGee said as he exited the floor via the elevator.

Tony sighed deeply before jumping up and grabbing his coat. 'What happened to Gibbs may have been his fault, but there was no way he should have taken it out on her like that.'


	7. Chapter 7

Tony trudged up the corridor sighing. He'd been searching for Ziva for close to half an hour now and had still come up with a big fat nothing. The building was pretty much deserted apart from the odd janitor here and there, but that didn't surprise him; it was, after all, only 7.30 in the morning. Even here at NCIS, close to Gibbs desk, close to where he sat, close to him; Tony hadn't been able to get any sleep. By the early arrival of the others he got the feeling they had had the same problem as well.

Tony let out another huge sigh and dragged his feet, seriously thinking of giving up the search, when he heard an almost silent scuffle from behind one of the doors. Tony looked up to find a small plastic, white figure of a woman nailed to the front of the door.

"Got ya…" Tony whispered under his breath. He slowly opened the door, trying desperately to creep into the room unheard, however somebody thought otherwise as the hinges gave out a huge groan as the door creaked open. The figure inside whipped around from the facing the mirror and levelled a gun in Tony's direction.

"NCIS, Freeze!" cried out a familiar voice, although rather more hoarsely than usual. Ziva had obviously been crying.

Tony froze and from behind the door threw his hands forward so Ziva would know he was unarmed.

"Show yourself!"

Tony walked out from behind the door, keeping his hands visible, and gave a weak smile as Ziva relaxed slightly.

"What are you doing here Tony? I believe this is the woman's bathroom? So unless you've decided to go in for some drastic surgery…"

"Er Ziva, would you mind?" Tony said, nodding his head to gun still pointing at his chest.

"Oh," Ziva said, almost surprised to see she was still holding it like that. She lowered the gun; a little slower than Tony would have preferred, but still lowered to face the floor.

"Look Ziva…" Tony began, not quite knowing what to say after his pathetic entrance.

"You are not meant to be in here, Tony." Ziva said, reholstering her gun and turning to face the mirror. After the adrenaline of the intrusion into the bathroom, Ziva had realized what she must have looked like, and now tried to hide her face from Tony.

"Have you been crying?" Tony asked quietly and carefully, but still standing far out of her reach.

"No!" Ziva said a little too strongly.

Tony paused some before taking a step forward and starting again, "I didn't mean…"

"Yes you did, and you're right Tony; I have not known him for that long; I have not known you for that long. I have no right…"

Tony took a big step forward; he was almost within grasping distance now, "Yes you do; I was angry, lashing out…and I was wrong, Ziva, really wrong. You are just as much part of this team as Probie or I are, and I doubt you are feeling any better than either of us…"

Ziva didn't answer but let out a small sob, which she didn't even attempt to stifle.

Tony continued, creeping forward toward Ziva, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it. It was mean and spiteful and it meant nothing," Tony was now inches away from her and he placed one hand on her trembling shoulder. She reacted by turning into him and burying her head in his shoulder, grabbing the front of his shirt tightly in her hands. Tony let out a the huge breath he'd been holding for the last few minutes and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on hers. He hugged her firmly as she shook violently in his arms. She let out a wail of grief and held on ever tighter to the front of Tony. She began hitting out at him, thumping the front of Tony's chest.

"Why? Why him?" she cried out, punching Tony violently; but he refused to let go, only holding her tighter against him. He held on to her as the beating subsided and the hysterical crying was down to a quiet sobbing.

He buried his lips deep into her hair and kissed her firmly on the top of her head. He inhaled deeply, smelling the aroma he loved. Sometimes when she walked by it would drift over to his desk, daring him to go closely, teasing him. And in the mornings when she entered the elevator with damp hair from her morning shower, Tony's heart would leap as the scent filled the small metallic elevator. He smelled it now, taking in every last second of it before Ziva struggled out of his grip.

She turned away, evidently embarrassed by her show of emotion. Tony moved forwards, still with his hand touching her arm. He pulled her around to face him as she tried to look away and raised his hand, lightly touching the side of her face with his fingers. She flinched slightly and closed her eyes, her body relaxing a little. He stroked the side of her face gently, and softly pulled her head around so that she faced him completely. Still with eyes closed, she began to shudder again, her mouth twisting as she fought to keep the sobs from coming; Tony wouldn't let them, bringing his other arm up and clasping her head in his protective hands.

"Open your eyes, Ziva," he said softly, his voice damp and breathy.

"No…" she sobbed, as she tried to shake her head.

"Open them," Tony repeated in the same way as before.

"No…" she cried again, but this time a little less forcefully.

"Open…" Tony smiled as slowly he was revealed the gift of those wonderfully delicious eyes; deep, dark and alluring. She gazed deep into his eyes to which he happily reciprocated. They stood there, in that position, for what could seem to an outsider forever, but to them it was nothing at all, lost in each others gaze. Each perfectly content to just be looked upon, with such love and affection.

Finally it was Ziva who leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, briefly pausing as she tried in one last attempt to defy her heart and move away. Once her lips touched his, the thought was gone and she wrapped her arms around him hugging him close. Tony pushed his lips into hers and kissed her passionately. Ziva began to sob again but Tony didn't stop, deepening the kiss, smiling as he did so. Ziva fell in his arms, but he held her up, wrapping his arms underneath hers so her hands where forced up and around his neck; but still the kiss continued now hot and intense. Tony's heart leapt and he couldn't contain his happiness, almost letting out a laugh as his lips entwined with hers. The moment had finally come and she was his, and he was never going to let her go.


	8. Chapter 8

Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…

The wind rushed through the trees and the branches screeched against the window as they scraped against the cold panes of glass. Rain continued to gush down, and trickling streams of water ran down the glass, twisting and turning on the smooth surface. Outside water flooded the earth, inundating the soil and, every here and there creating tiny mudslides. A woman stood at the window looking out onto the abandoned streets below, her eyes red with a mixture of tiredness, pain and shock. The only sound that could be heard was the pattering of the rain on the window and of course the endless 'Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…'

The woman tore herself away from the window and turned around to face a simple, plainly dressed bed. Under a perfectly smoothed sheet a man slept endlessly, his body unmoving, his fingers staying perfectly still. For the first time in her life, Jennifer Shepard couldn't see the man's eyes. She could always find solace in those eyes, even when he was angry with her; she could always see deep into those eyes and be comforted. But now those bright blue eyes were hidden from the world by his slumped eyelids, and there was no comfort.

She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, leaning over the man's body. She spoke gently, and with deep affection, "Jethro? Please say you can here me. The doctors say…the doctors…" She paused slightly, the pain of the words she was about to say shining through in her eyes. She cleared her throat audibly before continuing, steadying herself, strengthening herself. "The doctors say you are in a coma…and that you may not ever wake up. I want you to tell me that's not true…I _need_ you to tell me that's not true…I need…you."

She grabbed his hand tightly in one of her hands, her grip gentle but tight, willing him to clutch her hand back. She used the other hand to gently stoke the side of his face, her head tilting slightly and a smile coming to her lips. "Remember Paris, Jethro? You, me and that city. Those were some of the best times of my life, Jethro, and I will not let you forget them. You are coming back to me, you hear? I will not accept this as your resignation. The Jethro Gibbs I know wouldn't take the coward's way out, and I respected him for that. I respect _you_…I need _you_…I love…"

The door to the small room crashed open and a young woman burst in quickly, followed by a very red-faced man.

"Director, I…"

"It doesn't matter, Agent McGee, I understand," Jen said softly. She had quickly come to her senses and gained her natural demeanor back. The images of Paris were gone and her duty as Director of NCIS was in front of her.

"The nurse said you were in here and I tried to stop…"

"I said it doesn't matter, McGee, we are all in the same boat here…"

"Gibbs?" came a quite mumble from the young black haired lady. Her body had fallen limp at the sight of her boss in that hospital bed, her shoulders hunched and her clutch back hanging loosely at her side held by a small pale hand. Her eyes filled with tears, which she blinked back furiously.

McGee moved forward and put a hand gently on her shoulder, "Abs?"

She shrugged him off and moved forward toward Gibbs. She moved slowly and in tiny movements, almost scared to go close to the sleeping man. Her hand hung trembling at her side.

McGee turned to Jenny and in a quite voice asked, "What did the doctors say?"

Jenny took a second before answering, "They say he is in a coma, and that they don't know if he will wake up…the next 48 hours are crucial."

McGee swallowed hard before turning to look, himself, at Gibbs lying there under the covers, "Yeah, but he woke up last time didn't he?"

"But he didn't want to…" came Abby from beside Gibbs. She had now reached the bed and she stood looking down at him. "He didn't want to wake up; he was with them…"

"Who?" McGee answered. Jen just kept quiet, her face hardening as she tried to shield her thoughts from what Abby was talking about.

"Them…Shannon and Kelly…his family…" Abby said.

"He wasn't actually with them though, was he?"

"Whether in mind or in body it doesn't matter, McGee… His heart was with them…and not with us." Abby replied.

"Yeah, but…he'll come back… He has to… he's Gibbs." McGee said, but his own doubts shone through in his voice.

"Would you?" Abby asked, turning to face McGee. "If you had found your true happiness, only to have it taken away… wouldn't you give anything to have it back?"

"That's different…" he started.

"How?" Abby challenged. McGee kept quite his face glum as he searched for an answer he did not have.

"I would," Jen said from the corner of the bed. She looked over to Gibbs and images flashed in front of her…

[iA man and a red headed woman sat on the balcony laughing together…his arm around her waist, holding her close.

_The same couple this time laying on a bed, the man dipping a strawberry in chocolate and bringing it up to her mouth, daring her to bite it._

_The man, this time pouring champagne into to glasses and bringing them over to the bath, where the woman was already enjoying the hot bubbly water._

_Both of them under the covers, sweat soaking into the sheets as they moved together. She moaned in pleasure as he pushed himself inside her, never taking his eyes from hers as they made love.[/i_

Jen's eyes sharpened as she brought her self back to the present, "If I could go back to when I was truly happy, I would."

All three of them looked on as Gibbs slept soundly in his bed. Each of them silent and alone with their own thoughts, hopes and fears. The only sound echoing out into the dark room was the steady mechanical sound, 'Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…'


	9. Chapter 9

Tony stood in the pouring rain looking up at the huge grey cement building. Chequered across its surface where tiny windows, some lit up with bright yellow light and some not; like a great big game of 'Four in a row', right in front of him. Which one was the right one? Was it any of them? Which one concealed his fallen boss from the rest of the world, with only dull white walls and a saline drip for company? Hospitals could be such depressing places; it was the only place that it was certain that some people would enter and not return. Tony blinked as rain ran down his forehead and dripped from his eyebrows. He reached forward and opened the car door so that the dark haired woman could get out of the car. She looked up at him with a tiny smile, and in one second the entire of this evening flashed before him. He couldn't help but smile back.

Ziva jumped out the car into the rain. Tony made a move to remove his jacket, that was wrapped around his body but Ziva stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you my jacket," Tony answered slowly, "Its cold!"

Ziva gave him a mocking look but her heart swelled inside of her. He was such a gentleman. Even in this weather, in which Ziva knew he would be freezing, and he was offering her his jacket. It was so valiant of him to try to take care of her. "I am a Mossad agent, Tony; I have been in worse situations than this."

Tony looked hurt but smiled anyway. He settled for draping his arm around her as they ran for cover from the storm around them, both of them laughing as they splashed in the puddles dotting the car park. They reached the entrance and pushed though the heavy glass doors into the warm reception. Ziva shook her head and water fell onto her already damp clothes. She slid a look over to Tony who was experiencing the same problem except he was worse. His shirt was completely soaked through, his chest visible through the wet clothes. Ziva smiled, as she remembered not that long ago when that shirt had been on the bathroom floor.

Tony saw her look and knew what she was thinking of. He couldn't stop thinking about her either. Grinning like a buffoon, he went up to the desk and showed his I.D., asking for Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The lady behind the desk nodded to one of two uniformed men that Tony hadn't seen standing in the shadowed corner of the large reception hall. Tony thanked the woman and walked over the man who had stepped forward. Ziva followed him, holding up her own I.D. badge. The man walked them over to the elevator and, after a couple of minutes of a rather melancholy silence, the doors pinged open and the three of them got in.

Tony watched the numbers escalate as the elevator rose higher and higher. He could see Ziva doing the exact same thing standing next to him.

18, 19, 20…

It eventually came to a halt on floor 27. Floor 27 was the floor where Gibbs was lying asleep on a small metal bed, in a small dark room. Just a couple of hundred feet away and they would be at that door. The door that filled Tony with dread and fear. Seeing him lying down like that would make everything real. Last night still felt like a dream to him, a horrible nightmare that had ended when he woke up. Seeing Gibbs lying there, a wound in his chest would take that fantasy away, and there would be no hiding from the fact that Tony's mistake may have cost Gibbs his life.

The metal doors opened onto a dimly lit corridor and they walked along. The only sound was their footsteps and the distant beeping from the machines of each room they passed. They turned a corner and Ziva's stomach tightened. Ahead was a small room lined with chairs; some of them were occupied with familiar figures. Ziva continued walking slowly forward as she met with the grim faces of McGee, Abby and Director Shepard. The guard who had accompanied them up here nodded to two already stood at a door on his left, turned around and left back the way they had come.

Tony was the first to speak.

"Where is he?"

McGee nodded to the door with the guards. A large window stood to the left of the door, but Tony refused to look into it; not until he had to. He clenched his jaw so as not to react to the sound of Ziva gasping beside him, her head turned to face the window.

"How is he?" This met a mixture of reactions. Abby face was smeared with black tears but her face was hard and determined. The Director just stared forward in her own little world, her face blank and unreadable; Tony wasn't even sure if she knew Ziva and himself were there. McGee again was the only one to react.

"Ducky is in with him at the moment, but it's not good," he said solemnly. "The next two nights are critical."

Ziva moved towards the window and pressed up against it. She felt rude for prying into Ducky's own grief, but she just had to see Gibbs. She moved over toward the guards and looked them in the eye, "May I?"

They moved apart and let her pass, her hand turning the handle of the doors. She looked over to Tony, but he was avoiding her eyes. She turned back sadly and entered the room. Ducky didn't even seem to notice, Ziva had to clear her throat loudly three times before he stopped mid-ramble and faced her.

"I'm so sorry, Ducky, but I had to come…" she began, but Ducky already knew what she was going to say.

"It's perfectly okay, my dear," Ducky said, but the voice he spoke with wasn't his own; it was devoid of his usual cheer and gentle happiness. Instead it was dull and drawn out, tired and drained. "I understand completely, I will get out of your way."

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine; Jethro doesn't need anymore old man's recounts of tales from the past; he needs reminding of the present and, more importantly, of his future. I believe you would be better to do this part." Ducky feigned a smile and left the room, leaving Ziva alone in the small room. She swallowed hard as she walked forward towards the bed.

"Hello, Jethro."


	10. Chapter 10

Tony sat down in one of the seats in the hallway, his back to Gibbs' room. His breathing was shallow and he cursed himself for being too weak to be able to push himself into going in to see Gibbs. He let out a huge sigh and lowered his head so that it rested between his two thighs.

"Tony, are you okay?" McGee asked, concerned but quietly, trying to evade getting shouted at; a repeat of his earlier outburst would not do anybody any good.

"I'm fine, McGee." Tony said through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine; so drop it, Probie."

McGee sat down on a seat across the room from the troubled agent, a distraught Abby and the absent-looking Director. He was always the one that people took out their anger on; why couldn't, for once, people realize that he had feelings, too? He was in as much pain as the others; he was also one of the ones that let the bastard get away, but there was nothing he could do about that now. All he needed to do now was be here for his Boss, although he doubted that would make much of a difference. Gibbs had always been close with Tony and Abby; McGee saw them almost like a small family: brother, sister and the overprotective parent. Where did he fit into all of this? He would never see Abby as just a sister, not after everything that had happened; and Tony never seemed to really open up to him or let him see the real Tony DiNozzo. Every now and then McGee thought he caught a glimpse of what was behind the mask, but every time it was taken away, as the 'fake' Tony glossed over it. Maybe he would never truly fit in at NCIS, but he liked to think that he had made an impression. He loved working at NCIS, and he loved the people that came with it, but just how much did they love him back?

Leaning back and resting the back of his head against the cool glass of the window into the hospital room, he could just about make out the murmur of Ziva's voice. Not loud enough to make out words, but it was definitely her voice.

"Remember the first time I saw you in a coma, Jethro?" Ziva asked Gibbs' sleeping body. "No, of course you wouldn't; you were in a coma after all. But this time, I want you to remember; I need you to remember what I say to you. Will you do that for me?"

Taking Gibbs' silence as an agreement, Ziva carried on, "I need you to come back, Jethro. The team needs you to come back; every last one of us, we just don't work without you. McGee needs you to make him feel important, part of the team; Abby needs you to look after her, care for her like you always do. Ducky needs you to listen to his long stories and to reminisce with him, to make him feel young and needed again, not like the frail old man he fears becoming; Director Shepard needs you to remind her of the woman she once was, and not of the obsession driven machine that she sees herself becoming. I need you tell me that I'm doing okay, that I am a good agent. It may be selfish of me, but I need you here to let me know that I'm making a difference; I'm righting so many years of wrongs; but most of all it's Tony who needs you. Since you went down, he's done nothing but blame himself. I need you to wake up and tell him it wasn't his fault."

Ziva moved forward, holding Gibbs' still hand as she brought her body close to his, "If you don't wake up and tell him that for me, I'm afraid for him. I'm afraid that he will break in to a million tiny pieces, each jagged edge ripping at his soul, condemning himself for eternity for something that was not… his… fault."

Ziva's voice broke slightly and she tightened her grip on the hand she clasped firmly beside her. Tears welled in her dark eyes, blurring her vision of the man in front of her. "My father…"

A tear rolled down one side of her face as she told Gibbs of her memory. "My father once told me that once a person loses their faith in themselves, they are of no more use on this earth. A person has to believe in themselves just to carry on taking breaths; believe that they are something good, and that they are making the world a better place just by being here. If you don't wake up and tell him that it was not his fault, I'm afraid that I will lose him; I will lose the laughter, and the fun, and the light. If you don't wake up, Tony will die and be replaced by someone different, someone… who's not Tony…"

Ziva couldn't take it any more; tears flooded from her eyes as she mourned for the potential loss she would have to suffer if, one by one, she lost the people closest to her. From hazy eyes, Ziva watched Gibbs intently, desperate for any sign that he had heard her. "Anything, Jethro, just give me a sign that you've heard me… anything…"

Ziva's heart stopped in her chest as she felt a squeeze on her hand, "Gibbs?" she asked quietly.

"Gibbs!" she squeezed back as her mouth creased into a massive smile. Her tears changed from sadness to joy as her prayers were answered. She checked to make sure her brain wasn't making it up, and sure enough he was still holding onto her hand; in fact, she didn't quite know if he was ever going to let go.

"TONY, McGEE; I think he's waking up!" Ziva shouted through the wall. Even before the last syllable left her mouth, there was a crash as the hospital door flung open to reveal a disbelieving McGee, quickly followed by Abby and the Director.

"He's holding my hand! Look, he won't let go," she said lifting up her arm to show the people around her.

"McGee, go and find the doctor, NOW!" the Director shouted as McGee, in shock, hesitated slightly.

"On it, Director," he said, running off down the hallway.

The Director and Abby had now crowded around Gibbs bed, concentrating on him for any signs of stirring, "Jethro?" the Director said softly, placing her hand on the top of his arm.

"Gibbs?" Abby said from the other side of the metal bed, "It's Abby; are you coming back to us?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven 

Tony froze as he listened intently to the scuffling in the room behind him. He could hear Abby repeating Gibbs' name and Ziva telling him to wake up, but strangely there was a silence where the Director's voice should be. Even though he couldn't hear her, he could imagine her face. She would be relieved at the thought of him waking up, but she was too thorough to put herself in false hope. So instead she had resorted to a silent prayer, asking for him to return to them. Tony admired that of her – that she could be hopeful yet realistic at the same time; but he knew that this was of little comfort to the Director from the constant pain etched on her face.

Tony's silence, on the other hand, was a completely different mater entirely. His heart pounded joyfully at the thought of Gibbs returning to them, to him; but his fear stopped him from jumping up and running into the room to watch him wake. An icy dread filled his stomach as he thought of the disappointed look he would get when Gibbs awoke to find that Tony had failed him. A grim expression carved its way across Tony's face as he remembered all too well the man that he had let past him, the man that had taken the gun from his jacket and shot the bullet straight into Gibbs' chest. He curled his hand into a tight fist and jabbed himself in the leg in self-loathing. He just couldn't handle Gibbs finding out. It would never be the same again, Gibbs wouldn't trust him, and that closeness that Tony had always felt between them would vanish, replaced by a distant familiarity.

At that moment, several nurses and the doctor ran past him, making their way into the room. Tony listened to the hectic commotion with bated breath as he waited for any sign that Gibbs had awakened from his coma.

"Is he waking up?" asked Abby loudly as she watched the doctor shine a light in each of Gibbs' eyes.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "This might be a false alarm. Patients sometimes experience involuntary muscle spasms and…"

"No! He held my hand!" Ziva said from the side of the bed. "Look he's still doing it now." She lifted her hand and the doctor's jaw dropped as Gibbs hand clung on to her. She straightened her fingers and still Gibbs clutched her, his fingers tightly wrapped around her palm.

The doctor looked back at Gibbs and pointed the light into his eyes. "Still no response," he said quietly to the nurse on his left.

"Of course there is a response!" shouted Abby. "He's holding onto Ziva's hand."

"His pupils aren't responding. The only explanation I can give is prolonged muscular spasm, Miss Scuito. There is really no indication that he is waking up, although I admit this is a very rare situation and…"

"No indication?" Abby shouted in astonishment. "Look! He's holding her hand."

"I can see that, but I really can't see any other reason…"

"His eyes just moved." Director Shepard said somewhat quietly from the foot of the bed.

Abby and Ziva spun around to face the Director, who ignored them and continued to stare at the man lying in the bed in front of her.

"His eyes are moving, look," she repeated, and everybody turned to look at Gibbs' eyes, which were rolling around behind closed eyelids.

The doctor then turned to face everyone with a slightly pained expression. "I'm afraid that's what we call REM, Rapid Eye…"

"Movement," finished Abby, "But it doesn't mean that he's not waking up."

"No, but it doesn't show any evidence to say that he is."

"You don't know Gibbs; he's trying to get back to us," said Abby defiantly.

"And he will," said Ziva, grabbing even harder onto Gibbs' hand.

"Is he still holding onto your hand, Miss David?"

"Well…no," Ziva admitted slowly, "but he was."

"Then all I can say is that there is nothing to suggest that Mr Gibbs is waking up. I'm sorry to tell you, but this is a false alarm."

"No!" said Abby loudly. "He's coming back; I know it."

"Not right now, Miss Scuito."

"You have no proof that says that he isn't."

"And you have no proof that he is."

"He's right, Abby," said the Director. "Gibbs will come back to us when he is ready, and not before. You of all people should know that. Gibbs only does things on his terms."

"Yes but…"

"Abby, he is coming back to us, but just not right now."

Abby looked like she was bursting to argue, but maturity got the better of her, and she kept quiet. It was probably not the best idea to argue with the Director, even at a time like this.

"I'm afraid the nurses have a few things they would like to do, so if you could all leave the room for a while, we would appreciate it."

"Certainly doctor," said the Director, taking charge. "Ziva, Abby, lets leave the nurses to do what they need."

The Director left the room followed by a sullen looking Abby. Ziva took one last look at Gibbs before slowly removing her hand from his. Her fingertips lost the feel of his skin, and with shining eyes she left the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve 

As the group entered the waiting area outside Gibbs's room, they were met by a wide-eyed Tony.

"Is he awake?" Tony whispered coarsely, every syllable laced with hope that he would hear the answer he craved. Instead he was met by a solemn shaking of heads and clumsily he let himself slide back into the worn seat below him. He turned his head away from the people that had denied him the words he had been looking for, unwilling to let them see his despair. He was the senior field agent, damn it; he wasn't supposed to let himself be seen this…weak.

"Tony," Ziva uttered as she sat down beside him, placing a warm hand on his trembling shoulder. The trembling immediately ceased, and Tony's tense body relaxed a little; but he didn't give a reply.

"I know that it's hard to see him like that, but if…if something happened…you'd never forgive yourself." Ziva tightened her grip; "He'd want you there with him, in that room. He needs you, Tony."

Tony whipped round in the chair, "He doesn't need me; he doesn't need anybody. He's Gibbs."

This outburst from the recent silence from Tony, broke the others from their own individual thoughts and they looked over, concerned. It was Jenny who offered him the words he'd never thought he'd hear.

"Tony, even Gibbs needs help some times."

"No he doesn't, if Gibbs wants to come out of this coma, then he will. If he doesn't…"

McGee spoke from the other side of the room where he had his arm draped over a drained Abby, "Of course Gibbs wants to come back, Tony."

"Why? What possible reason would he have?"

"We are his family," Abby spoke from the corner with McGee, "He can't just leave us."

"He did before. When he woke, he left us; he didn't even think twice."

"That's not true, Tony. That was a hard decision for Gibbs," McGee said looking sadly at Tony.

"Who are we kidding, McGee. It was easy for him. We don't mean a thing to him."

"Don't say that, Tony." Abby sobbed, and McGee pulled her closer to his firm body, his eyes narrowing towards Tony.

"We are his team, Tony. His friends, and as Abby said, his family."

"He doesn't think of us that way, McGee."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, that's all."

"Well you're wrong, Tony," Abby said loudly from within McGee's arms, "Gibbs needs us to believe in him and if you don't, then maybe you shouldn't even be here."

Abby knew she shouldn't have it as the words came flying out her angry mouth. She jumped up from her chair and ran over to were Tony had left his and was now walking towards the exit.

"Tony, please, I didn't mean that; I'm just upset. Please don't go, Tony."

"You said it yourself, Abby," Tony said turning around, "maybe I shouldn't even be here, after all it was me who got him here."

"What?" Abby said in disbelief, "You weren't the one that pulled that trigger."

"Maybe not, but as good as. I let him walk right past me. I let him bring that gun into the hall so he could use it to put a bullet in Gibbs's chest. I may just as well have pulled the trigger." Tony's eyes glistened in the overhead light as his emotions flooded out.

"No. You didn't know it was him; there was nothing more you could have done."

"I should have been looking more closely, but no. Instead, me, the infamous Tony DiNozzo did what he does best and forgets everything for the sake of a pretty girl."

"It wasn't your fault, Tony," McGee said walking over to join Tony and Abby.

"I should have done more."

"There was nothing else you could have done, Tony," Ziva said, also rising and walking over to join the shaking Tony, "This wasn't your fault."

Seeing the pain in Tony's eyes, Abby reached up and hugged him, wrapping her arms so tightly round his exposed neck. It took Tony by surprise and his barriers opened. Everything spilled out of him, and his friends were there to catch it all. McGee placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, steadying him, whilst Ziva, unable to hold him like she so bitterly wanted while he was in the arms of Abby, kept constant eye contact. Her eyes reached out to him and took him, comforting him. The Directors overlooking gaze fell on the four of them, her heart bursting with pride. They were her team. They may be missing a member but they were still the best team she'd ever been lucky enough to be part of, and she held them close to her. They needed her now more than ever, and she reached out to them as she spoke clearly the words her senior field agent so desperately needed to hear,

"Tony, it's not your fault."

Tony shuddered under the comfort from his friends. How could they have so much faith in him when he himself held so little? It helped; it helped a lot that these people were willing to believe in him when he couldn't; but he still couldn't bring himself to let go of that ever-present guilt and self-loathing for what he had done. Only one person, and one person alone had the power to do that.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

An alarm was going off somewhere in the back of Tony's mind, but he couldn't quite work out what it was. It felt like it was on the tip of his tongue and he couldn't quite say what it was; he was too lost in thoughts of Gibbs to realise that the ringing was not only in his mind, but was a physical sound, echoing around the room.

CRASH

A resus cart came flying through the double doors at the end of the waiting room and headed straight for Gibbs's door. Tony quickly snapped back to reality and he watched in horror as the cart made its way into Gibbs room. Ziva, Abby, McGee and the Director all followed the nurses into the room, pushing past any resistance that they were putting up. They filed in to the back of the room, out of the way, but still there. Tony couldn't bring himself to stay out of the room that had haunted him any longer and pushed past the flustered nurse trying to close the door in front of him. He joined his team, united, standing at the back of the room, watching over as Gibbs's life drained away in front of them. The nurse, seeing that it was of no use, gave up on trying to move them from the room and turned instead to help her colleagues working on the man in the bed.

"Ok, and three, two, one, clear!"

…

"No use, ok I'll try again. Three, two, one, clear!"

…

"Still no response, we're losing him! Ok, charging to 300. Three, two, one, clear!"

…

"I don't know how much more of this we can do. One last try. Ok, three, two, one, clear!"

…

The nurse who had been giving the orders, slowly returned the paddles to the cart and looked over with pained eyes to were the NCIS team of Washington DC were standing.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"_Ok, and three, two, one, clear!"_

"_No use; ok I'll try again. Three, two, one, clear!"_

"_Still no response, we're losing him! Ok, charging to 300. Three, two, one, clear!"_

"_I don't know how much more of this we can do. One last try. Ok, three, two, one, clear!"_

_The nurse who had been giving the orders slowly returned the paddles to the cart and looked over with pained eyes to where the NCIS team of Washington DC were standing. _

"I'm afraid he's gone."

Abby broke down, and slid to the floor, bringing down a shallow-breathed McGee with her, Ziva stepped back against the cold wall and looked up at the ceiling, gasping for precious air; and the Director looked like she'd been hit in the stomach by a baseball bat. Tony however marched forward to the nearest nurse and shoved him angrily against the wall.

"You try again, you hear me!" he shouted at the nurses who hesitated, not knowing what to do. The rest of the team looked on at Tony, each of them shocked but unwilling to stop him, if it meant another chance at bringing Gibbs back.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Tony screamed, "Gibbs needed me and I wasn't here, but now I am so you try again!"

Slowly the nurse placed her hands on the paddles, looking nervously to her fellow nurses surrounding her. Swallowing hard she nodded and shouted, "Ok charging again to 300. Three, two, one, CLEAR!"

beep, beep, beep

"Gibbs?" screamed Abby, rising quickly from the floor. Everybody, bar Tony, ran over to Gibbs' bed as the nurses did one final astounded check confirming that Gibbs had indeed returned to the room.

Tony's eyes widened as he realised what he had just done. He's fingers recoiled as he let the male nurse go and he took a step back. He stared, mouth open, at the nurse, a look of terror in his eyes. At first no words came out but finally they tumbled out, a mixture sadness and disbelief.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…I don't know what came over me…"

Without saying another word, Tony raced from the room, leaving a clattering door swinging on its hinges. He ran quickly through the waiting rooms to the hallway on the other side. Nausea rose within him and he resisted the urge to vomit. He slid a hand against the wall as he ran, supporting himself. What had he just done? It had been a long time since he'd seen fear in someone's eyes like that; he'd promised that he would never see it again but yet here he was. The look in that man's eyes as Tony held him against the wall; he wasn't even that old, 23 maybe? How could he have let that happen?

Tony eventually slowed as he reached the door for the stairwell and pushed himself through it. Descending a flight, he came up against the clear window and placed his throbbing ahead against the cool glass. How could he have done that?

A young boy perhaps 15 or 16 was running frantically down a hallway, his glasses struggling to cling on to his sweating nose as he raced for his next class. Flicking his auburn locks out of his face, he juggled a mound of textbooks in his arms, reaching so high as to rub against the soft skin underneath his chin. The boy was badly out of breath as he tried with great effort to balance the books with the extra weight of the large backpack that pulled down on him and cut deeply into his shoulders. He was concentrating so hard that he didn't even see the foot sticking out from the end of the row of lockers he was passing. He went straight down, awkwardly twisting as the books clattered onto the floor. With glossy eyes, the boy looked up and swallowed hard as he saw whom the shadow that fell upon him belonged to.

"You must learn not to be so clumsy, Reggie."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't look where I was going," Reggie looked up in fear from his place on the floor. The boy towering above him was no older than himself, yet somehow an air of authority reeked from him. He was a tall boy, not well built but you could hardly call him skinny. Dark hair splayed across his forehead, deceptively messy looking, but each hair having been meticulously placed there. He had a handsome face, even for a 16 year old; you could tell he was going to grow into his features well. Reggie; the smaller boy; quaked with fear beneath him.

"Next time you should look more closely."

"I will, I promise." Reggie nodded violently as he tried to gather his books together. The other boy walked over to where 'Mathematics, a further study' lay strewn on the floor and placed his foot firmly on top of it.

"Um…could I…um…please have my book?"

The boy knelt down so that his face was inches from a trembling Reggie. He cocked his head tauntingly to the side and mocked him in a high voice, "Please mister, please give me my nerd book."

"Please," Reggie said quietly, his eyes welling up.

"Oh look, the little baby is crying."

"I'm not a baby…please…can I just have my…"

"Ok, I'll tell you what; because I'm a nice guy I'll let you have your book…" Reggie's sobs hesitated as he fell silently, eyeing the book still under the older boys foot. The boy raised his foot just a couple of inches above the book, just enough for Reggie quick hands to reach forwards and grab the top of the book. The older boy was two quick for Reggie though, and his foot came crushing back down on top of Reggie's hand. Reggie's eyes shone with pain as he screamed out into the empty corridor.

"If…you give me your dinner money," came the proud reply from the boy. His eyes glinted as he watched his plan work before him. He congratulated himself with a happy smile; sometimes he amazed himself with how clever he could be.

"You're hurting me…please…move your foot…" Reggie's pleas came between sobs of pain as he pulled at his arm to try and remove it from the vice the older boy had created between the book and his foot.

"The money, Reggie…"

"I don't have any…"

The older boy pressed his foot harder into Reggie's hand, "Now I know that's a lie, Reggie, your mom gives you money every day, now hand it over."

"She's stopped giving it to me…she says that…that if I don't have any money, no one will try to take it from m…me."

"What if I say I don't believe you, Reggie?"

"You can…aaagh…check my bag! Please, check my bag."

"What will I find, Reggie?"

"My lunch, she made me a home lunch."

The older boy pushed down harder still with his foot before releasing it all together. Reggie quickly recoiled his hand and cradled it in his arms. The older boy walked over to behind Reggie and yanked Reggie's bag from his back. Reggie's arms twisted harshly in their sockets as they were wrenched back and the bag removed. Reggie crawled across the floor, away from the monster who was terrorising him. The monster shook the bag upside down and watched as the brown paper bag fell out. He threw the backpack away and opened up the paper bag with hungry eyes.

"Cheese and pickle, my favourite," the taller boy said, tucking the paper bag along with its contents into his coat pocket.

"That's my lunch," Reggie wailed from where he was still clutching his soon to be bruised hand. A brown shoe mark could be seen indented into th skin on the back of Reggie's hand.

"No Reggie, this is my lunch," said the older boy smugly patting his bulging pocket.

"What am I gonna eat, my mom…"

"Your mom needs to keep her fat nose out of stuff that's none of her business."

"My mom's not fat; you take that back!"

"And what if I don't, Reggie," the older boy said moving over to where Reggie was wriggling nervously against the solid wall behind him.

"I…I…"

"You'll do what exactly?"

"I don't know…I'll…"

"I think you need to be taught a lesson, Reggie."

"No…please…"

The older boy grabbed the back of Reggie's jumper and pulled him up to his feet. He pulled him the rather short distance to a door just down the corridor.

"A good old fashioned flushing should do the trick..."

"No! Please, I'll do anything, please, anything but that…"

"Too late, Reggie. You need to learn to respect your elders."

The two boys entered the small grotty bathroom and the older boy slammed open one of the cubicle doors, the door swinging dangerously off its hinge. He threw an extremely agitated Reggie into the cubicle and bore down on him, showing his teeth as he laughed at the smaller boy's fear.

"You're going down the toilet, Reggie."

The older boy let out a maniacal snort as he took Reggie again by the back of the neck and pushed him further towards the bowl. Reggie twisted in his grip so that he was looking straight back up at the older boy.

"Please, don't do this, I hate water, I can't even swim…" the small boy's eyes were wide and round with fear and his cheeks were stained with tears as he pleaded agonisingly not to have his head stuck down the toilet his hands were gripping onto. The boy's knuckles were white as he held on so tightly to the broken plastic rim, pushing with all his strength against the older boy's grip; but it was no use. He was just no match for the older boy. His eyes looked straight into the older boy's, reaching for any flutter of humanity, any part of him that would give him mercy.

The older boy looked down at the Reggie. He was a disgusting mess, snot everywhere with tearstained clothes. How could anyone be that weak? The little boy looked up to him, his eyes red from crying. He was there right beneath him, as if he was pleading for his life. For the younger boy, it was just that. Fear gripped his body as he shook violently under the older boy's fingers as he desperately tried to stop the inevitable. The look on the boy's face was horrifying; panic etched its way across every muscle, contorting his features into a gruesome shape. Fear did strange things to a person's body. The look was a look the older boy would never forget and for a second; just a second; a pang of guilt spread across the older boy's stomach. They were not all that different, he and the boy he was about to terrorise. Behind the glasses and the auburn hair; behind the books and the heavy backpacks; they were both two frightened boys, just trying to make their way through high school; albeit one more successfully than the other, but that remained to be seen on graduation day. The older boy pitied the smaller boy, but it didn't stop him from doing what he did. One day this boy would thank him, he would become stronger because of it. At least that what he told himself to be able to sleep at night; he was doing the boy a favour.

"Please, I'll do anything, you can have my lunch for the next week, just please…no! Please, Tony, NO!"

The sound of the flush of the toilet rebounded off the walls of the small rank cubicle and drowned away the spluttered cries from the boy struggling in his hands. Mixed feelings flooded Tony's body: glee, pleasure, delight, success, accomplishment, pity, regret, sorrow; but mostly a dirty feeling that he had done something terrible. He had made an irremovable impact on this boy's life. He had created a memory that would haunt him forever; a memory that would eat at him. That, along, with all the other memories would nibble away and strip him of any chance at a happy childhood.

Memories that were all Tony's fault.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

_Sorry for the delay in between updates, but I'm back writing now so they should be coming a little quicker :)_

Ziva pushed open the door to the stairwell and looked down to where Tony, a flight below, was huddled up in a ball. She watched as he rocked himself backwards and forwards, his head hidden as he bowed his head; faint sobs bouncing off the walls around them.

"Tony?"

Ziva moved down the first couple of steps before sitting down somewhere in the middle of the staircase, Tony at the foot.

"Gibbs is alright now." Ziva spoke out,

"Its not Gibbs I'm worried about," Tony said sharply raising his head, "Its me."

Ziva looked at him with a sideways glance.

"Well I mean I am worried about Gibbs, of course I am, but did you see what I just did?"

"What? Pushing that nurse against the wall?"

"Yes. I should never have done that."

"If you hadn't, Gibbs wouldn't be through there alive now."

"But…there must have been another way to do it…I should have talked to them…anything but…"

"Sometimes you have to use force," Ziva replied quietly, "if it's the only thing that will make people listen."

"Yes but not like that…it never helps in the end…some people just can't take it…a person can be only be pushed so far…"

"Why do I get the impression that you aren't talking about tonight," Ziva asked curious. Tony remained silent.

"Tell me, maybe I can help."

"Its far in the past, Ziva. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Obviously, it does."

"Its just something from my childhood, I did some stuff I'm not proud off…and a kid ended up hurt…badly."

"What happened?"

Tony looked up at Ziva, looking at her as if searching for something. "Ok," he said finally. "It was a boy in my class; Reggie. He committed suicide when I was 14."

"Did you ever found out why?"

"We were told that he was having major problems at home, it turns out his mother was an alcoholic and beat his father. His father was too embarrassed to speak out and didn't know that she was also taking it out on Reggie."

"How is any of this your fault, Tony?"

Tony looked down at the floor, "because I made his life a living hell! Maybe if I'd just stopped, just once, to ask if he was ok, maybe…"

"Its not your fault, Tony. That kid didn't kill himself because of you."

"How do you know that? I did some terrible things to him."

"You'll never know, and it probably didn't help, but did the things you did outweigh beating from a drunken mother?"

"Maybe…"

"Tony, you know that not true."

"Maybe, but I still shouldn't have done those things."

"Everybody has regrets, Tony. We just have to learn from them."

"What have you done that you regret, Ziva," Tony's voice was filled with curiosity now, but the hurt was still etched on his face. "I mean there must have been times, with the Mossad."

"There is plenty I regret, Tony, but I don't know if I can talk about it."

Tony managed a laugh, "Ziva, you are seeing me a total wreck. This is me; open as a book. I've showed you everything."

Ziva hesitated, "Tony, I have done things that you couldn't even imagine."

"Try me, I have a big imagination."

Ziva got up and walked the rest of the stairs; sitting down on the floor next to Tony. "My father sent me on a lot of missions during my time with Mossad, ones that you have to understand, I had to protect myself in."

Tony nodded, his eyes listening intently to ever word that left Ziva's lips.

Encouraged, Ziva carried on, "There was this one time…where my father sent me to interrogate a family; the husband was supposed to have been involved with something or other, I forget, but the point is, they sent me and one other; a man named Malik. Malik is notorious for using anything possible to get information; correct or not."

Tony kept silent, allowing Ziva to continue, her eyes zoning out as she recounted.

"Anyway, Malik and myself went into the house where they were being held and asked to be left alone with them; there was the husband, his wife, and their two children. Their daughter was barely two; the other was a nine-year-old boy. The husband was denying all involvement, which we believed was a lie. We questioned them for an hour but still they denied everything. I remember that Malik handed me this metallic tool, with a sort of barbed bit at the end. I remember the words he used as he handed it to me, he said 'have fun'." Ziva's eyes teared up and Tony put his hand on hers.

"I couldn't do it. I handed the tool back to him and coolly said, 'I would prefer to see the master at work.'" Ziva voice became unsteady. "I watched as he…he went for the wife first. The children…I can still hear them screaming…the girl kept crying 'mummy, mummy'…the father still denied everything but pleaded with us to stop…we didn't. Malik just laughed…he kept going until the woman was unconscious, and then went for the children…he…there was blood everywhere…but the man still kept denying…in the end Malik beat the man to his death…we couldn't leave any evidence…we buried the family just outside the village; unmarked." Ziva hung her head and started to sob.

"Ziva…" Tony began, tears filling his own eyes,

"We found out two weeks later that we had made a mistake. The man had nothing to do with what we suspected him in…"

"Ziva it wasn't your fault…"

"I could have done something, I could have stopped him…"

"He wouldn't have let you stop him, you know that…"

"But I could have done _something_…"

Tony raised his arm and wrapped it around Ziva, pulling her closer. "Ziva, you can't blame yourself, it wasn't you who tortured those people,"

Ziva looked up at Tony, her brown eyes shining, "but if I had of accepted that thing from Malik and used it myself, I could have been gentler with them, maybe they would have survived…"

"From what I've heard, this Malik guy was good at his job,"

"The best."

"Then he had no intention of leaving anything behind that could lead back to him. The moment he stepped into that room, they were dead."

"But…"

"No buts, Ziva, it wasn't your fault."

Ziva rested her head on Tony's shoulder and Tony planted a kiss deep into her hair. They sat in silence, each of them comforting the other. Ziva breathed deep into Tony's clothes, enjoying every bit of his delicious scent; it made her want to rip his clothes off right there. Somehow she refrained and instead enjoyed the heat emanating from his body, warm and soothing. She traced her fingers up and down his leg, drawing circles as she brushed the dark material that clung to his thighs. Tony smiled as he felt his spine straighten under her touch. Her hair felt soft under his mouth, the loose curls like velvet along his jaw line.

Sometime later, Ziva slowly pulled away from Tony; her eyes free from tears. She stood up and extended a hand towards Tony. Tony took hold and together he rose to stand beside Ziva. He swept her hair from her face and tucked it neatly behind her ear. His eyes twinkled as she smiled at him and he leant in for a kiss. Ziva ducked back, her hands spreading out over his chest. She smiled, teasing him,

"First, you have to do something for me."


End file.
